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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820613">when the sky cries too</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inazumaghostking/pseuds/inazumaghostking'>inazumaghostking</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>American Revolution, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Goodbyes, Human Nations | Countries (Hetalia), Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, Light Angst, M/M, Post Revolution, Random &amp; Short, Sad England, Short One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, lowkey a vent writing, nothing too sad though</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:06:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inazumaghostking/pseuds/inazumaghostking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, things end.</p>
<p>America watches as England slips from his fingers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>America/England (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when the sky cries too</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Unbeta'd; all mistakes are my own. Very sorry if some parts don't make sense / have mistakes / aren't historically accurate.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His movements were sluggish, careful to cast his gaze downwards as he packed the final pieces of what was his. England was pale, nose and cheeks reddened from what will probably become a cold.</p>
<p>Not much time has passed since that fateful moment. The icy rain felt like paper cuts as it shot past bare skin, the mud eagerly swallowing boots and bodies alike. England’s screams had been drowned by the downpour; his agonies lost in the wind. At the time, America had thought they were nothing but mere threats – something to convince the colony to yield.</p>
<p>But the former had sunk to his knees, bayonet falling from his shaky fingers, and America understood.</p>
<p>England gave in.</p>
<p>And now here he was, stuffing what little he owned into a single suitcase. America watched from the corner of the guestroom, silent and still. They hadn’t talked since; haven’t even looked at each other in the eye. America didn’t know how to.</p>
<p>Finally, his former colonist lifted his trunk with ease, even in his weakened state.</p>
<p>‘<em>Of course he would,</em>’ the younger country thought bitterly. ‘<em>It’s not like he visited enough to grow a collection</em>.’</p>
<p>England stood by the doorway, emeralds stubbornly staring ahead. His lips were parted, pupils darting across the ground as if he was searching for something to say.</p>
<p>But he didn’t.</p>
<p>America lagged behind as he followed the brit to the port. His ship would be leaving soon, after all.</p>
<p>Clouds persisted above them, grey and miserable. Their rumbles threatened a shower – one unforgiving and relentless if provoked. The wind couldn’t care less and pushed them along anyway.</p>
<p>On the dock, troops upon troops of redcoats huddled onto the vessel. England joined the tail end of the line without so much as a single look back.</p>
<p>The sky spat pathetic droplets at the people below. The English ship pushed off with a slow glide, leaving behind the crowd of people cheering and cursing at their leave. As the boat shrank into the distance, the dark blanket followed, peeling back to reveal a gentle sun.</p>
<p>“They say it rains when he cries,” a woman had said. She was clinging onto her husband, a soldier whose voice joined the celebration around them. She glanced at America and he returned with an inquisitive look. “It was raining then, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>America could only nod, returning to watch the small dot disappear. The woman sighed.</p>
<p>“He must’ve been so hurt.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>woah woah woah, WHAT?? me, posting, for a second day in a row?? it's shocking to me too tbh</p>
<p>uhh so i didn't really plan this out, and i kinda wrote this as a lowkey vent piece :') i wasnt feeling great when i wrote this so it's not really too good, but ehh. </p>
<p>im not an expert in american history (being a brit myself) so the events was just pulled out my ass lol</p>
<p>Thank you for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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